


Midnight on the Boundary

by genkisakka



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genkisakka/pseuds/genkisakka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on assignment in neutral territory, spymaster Koumyou calls on his most dangerous rival for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight on the Boundary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whymzycal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whymzycal/gifts).



> Written for the 2013 7thnight_smut Dreamwidth community exchange

“Welcome to the neutral boundary resort of Switzerland.” The greeter-bot raised its mechanical arm. “Please prepare for scan.”

Koumyou stepped beneath the outstretched disc-shaped hand and waited as the scanner’s rays flickered and danced over him, mapping his every cell and gene in the time it took to draw one breath.

A chime signaled the end of the scan. “Welcome back, Koumyou, head of Moon House,” the bot recited. “Please surrender all weapons, liquids, flammables and pharmaceuticals at the registration desk for the duration of your stay.”

“Of course.” Koumyou gave a slight nod toward the bot, which did not reply. Service bots weren’t programmed for idle conversation.

The registration process went much more smoothly than it had the first time Koumyou had visited Switzerland. Within ten minutes he had checked his weaponry, selected sleep-quarters and completed the limiter-fitting process. Koumyou couldn’t help fidgeting a little as the security soldiers smoothed the neuro-patch over the back of his neck, where it would remain for the duration of his stay. Recent intelligence suggested the Swiss anti-violence tech had advanced to the point where merely forming the thought of inflicting bodily harm on a human would send a warning shock through the instigator’s system. Koumyou was tempted to test the veracity of the information himself, but decided to wait until after completing the day’s sessions. It wouldn’t do for the master of the most elite of Terran’s spy houses to miss the very negotiations he had taken such pains to set up.

He strolled toward the resort’s vast common, its lawn rippling green in the light breeze. A slight, fine-boned man with wavy blond hair turned to face him, and Koumyou held up a hand in greeting.

Genjo, former Moon House agent and current security head for Sun Corporation, scowled at Koumyou. “You’re late, as usual.”

“Ah, Kouryuu! You’ve grown your hair since I saw you last.” Koumyou reached out to clasp Genjo’s forearms, and the younger man returned the gesture with a tenderness that contrasted with his severe countenance.

“Don’t call me by my child-name here,” Genjo grumbled, blushing a bit. “Anyone could overhear.”

“As you wish,” Koumyou smiled. “Where are your soldiers? Are you driving them too hard, as always?”

Genjo shrugged one shoulder toward the green. “Hardly,” he snorted. “Those slogs are down there clowning around right now when they should be working.”

Koumyou rested a hand on Genjo’s shoulder. “Negotiations do not begin until midday. Let them have their fun until then.”

Genjo grunted, but did not object, and they fell silent as they watched the three men sparring on the grass. Goku, the youngest of Genjo’s elite soldiers, had managed to overcome Gojyo’s size advantage and get him into a headlock, forcing the taller man to his knees. Hakkai, Genjo’s most skilled tactician, was laughing and shouting what sounded like encouragement.

“So, my operatives were correct,” Koumyou said after a while. “The limiter tech has been upgraded to monitor the subject’s thoughts, and can distinguish between simulated and actual violence by reading the person’s intentions.”

Genjo glanced at Koumyou. “You don’t sound pleased,” he said.

Koumyou grimaced. “You know my feelings on mind-manipulation,” he said. “Once full thought control can be achieved, what separates us from the bots?”

“The entity with the tech.” Genjo’s tone was flat, but Koumyou could tell from his narrowed eyes that Genjo did not relish the prospect any more than Koumyou did. Genjo flipped open the cig-case on his belt and extracted a stick, which lit as soon as its end touched air. He paused to smoke, exhaling with a satisfied sigh.

“A good thing that Switzerland owns the tech,” Genjo said. “It’s neutral property, so no corporation can touch it.”

“Legally.” Koumyou’s fingers twitched as he watched his former protégé take another long drag. Genjo’s obvious enjoyment of the smoke made Koumyou long for his pipe and the mellow Devonshire-strain leaf tucked away in his luggage.

Genjo flicked ash onto the walkway. “What entity would be bold enough to try to steal Swiss property?” he asked, tapping one finger on his cig case. Koumyou shook his head at the silent invitation.

“What… or who,” Koumyou said.

Genjo nodded. “Ah, so you are not just here for mediation.”

“No.”

“And no one else knows your true purpose here?”

Koumyou did not reply. Genjo exhaled sharply through his nostrils.

“That man again,” he growled. “He’s your archrival! Do you really think he wants to help you?”

“No,” Koumyou replied. “But I believe he will.”

Genjo raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment.

***

 

“You call that an offer?” Kougaiji, security head for Ox and Sons Limited, flung his chair back so hard it nearly tipped over. He slapped his hands on the glass-topped table. “It’s insulting!”

Goku moved forward from his position against the wall, but Genjo motioned him back. His expression did not waver. “I fail to see the insult,” he said flatly. “Unknowingly or no, Ox and Sons came into possession of intelligence stolen from Sun Corporation. We ask that Ox and Sons relinquish the stolen property to Sun Corporation. In return, Sun Corporation will not take Ox and Sons to court for industrial theft. Seems a fair exchange to me.”

“To suggest that a company that has prospered for millennia through the talent and hard work of its family would ever engage in an act as base as theft is an outrage!” Kougaiji bared fanged teeth, his entire body quivering with rage. Koumyou the mediator was glad the young man was wearing a limiter, but Koumyou the spymaster was curious to see whether Kougaiji could hold his own against Genjo in combat. At Moon House, Genjo had been top of his class in fighting skills, his speed and cunning more than making up for his lack of physical strength.

“Kou.” The muttered syllable came from a tall, muscular man whose position against the opposite wall mirrored Goku’s. His utterance appeared to compose Kougaiji, who inhaled deeply, exhaled, relaxed his shoulders and resumed his seat. The attractive female soldier seated to Kougaiji’s right, in the position of business advisor, leaned over and whispered a few sentences, to which Kougaiji nodded.

“Ox and Sons appreciates Sun Corporation’s show of trust in accepting our word that we had no knowledge of the intelligence in question being obtained through illegal means,” Kougaiji said, his tone even. “But this does not alter the fact that by surrendering the property to Sun Corporation, Ox and Sons will suffer a significant financial loss. We therefore propose Sun Corporation offer some compensation to offset this damage, as a gesture of goodwill and good faith between companies that have had a long and mutually beneficial relationship.”

Koumyou glanced at Genjo, whose jaw had tightened at Kougaiji’s last words. Hakkai, acting as business advisor for Sun Corporation, inclined his head and murmured a few words in Genjo’s ear. Genjo’s eye twitched, but he gave a tight-lipped nod.

“Sun Corporation appreciates the long and fruitful relationship it has enjoyed with Ox and Sons, and for that reason will take this proposal under advisement.” Genjo spoke impassively, but Koumyou had known him long enough to detect the faint thread of irritation underlying each word. Koumyou suppressed a smile. His ward had always hated the art of compromise.

Koumyou rang the bell hanging over the table. “So end today’s negotiations,” he intoned. “Both parties have agreed to a period of deliberation before resuming negotiations tomorrow at 3. We are now adjourned.”

***

 

That night, Koumyou sat on the deck, lit his slender ceramic pipe, poured two glasses of scotch, and waited. Just as the moon was starting to rise, the crickets paused their chirping for a second, and Koumyou felt the back of his neck prickle. He spoke to the trees.

“Good evening, Ukoku.”

Silent as a shadow, the spymaster of Crow House hopped down from a low tree-branch, his landing on the deck sparrow-light. He flashed a sly half-grin and nodded slightly.

“Evening, Koumyou.”

Koumyou gestured to an empty cushion. “Join me for a drink?”

Ukoku dropped onto the seat, crossing his lanky legs in a loose interpretation of the lotus position. He picked up the glass and sniffed its contents. “Neo-Machellan… well-aged,” he said. “And served personally, rather than by bot. I’m flattered.”

Koumyou made an aimless gesture with his pipe. “It was a gift from a client. And I know your distaste for mecha.” Koumyou set his pipe down and raised his own glass. “To your health.”

Ukoku smirked and touched his tumbler to Koumyou’s. “And to yours, honored rival.”

The scotch was excellent, redolent with wood-smoke and dark, dry fruit. They drank in silence for a time, Ukoku holding each sip for a few moments before swallowing. “So many flavors,” he mused. “Just when I think I’ve narrowed each down, I taste something new.”

“It’s a good scotch,” Koumyou said with his most benign smile.

“Really, Koumyou?” Ukoku clucked his tongue. “I would think a man of your talent and intellect could come up with a more eloquent description than ‘good’ for this magnificent beverage.”

Koumyou made a great show of sipping the scotch and swirling it around his tongue for a few moments. “It tastes like a life well-lived,” he pronounced.

Ukoku chuckled. “Better, if a bit morbid. Are you feeling your age, old friend?” Ukoku’s dark eyes glinted in the lantern-light.

The comment pricked at Koumyou’s ego; Ukoku knew his weak spots all too well. Rather than retort, Koumyou retrieved his pipe and made a great show of blowing a series of small smoke-rings. Ukoku clapped slowly. His toothy grin resembled a bone-white blade hovering in the dark, ready to strike.

 _That man is dangerous._ The voice of his old comrade Goudai echoed in Koumyou’s memory. Koumyou met Ukoku’s sharp gaze, his every sense alive and crackling, his mind working at top speed to anticipate his rival’s intentions and formulate the most effective response.

It was fortunate that Koumyou was at his best when dealing with dangerous men. He lifted the bottle of scotch and poured two fingers’ worth into each glass.

“There are many flavors yet to be tasted,” he said, raising his glass and taking a longer sip. Ukoku laughed outright and returned the gesture. Koumyou continued –

“It is good to be free to partake of the myriad of life’s flavors, is it not? To choose which to sample and which to leave behind. Free will is mankind’s most precious asset.”

Ukoku shifted to sit at the edge of the porch, facing away from Koumyou. His legs dangled over the porch’s edge in an almost childlike way. Koumyou smiled slightly, knowing the change was Ukoku’s attempt at defense.

“Some philosophers maintain that free will is the root of all the evil and destruction in the world,” Ukoku said. “And that mankind would be better off with some kind of control over its baser impulses.” He ran his fingers through the fine black hair at the base of his skull, revealing the limiter-patch on his neck.

“There are those who believe so, certainly.” Koumyou moved to sit next to Ukoku on the edge of the porch. He was close enough to feel the other man’s body heat through his black robe, though they did not touch. “Curbing man’s more violent tendencies has made the boundary-lands among the safest and most peaceful territories in the galaxy.”

“Switzerland is a calming place,” Ukoku agreed. “Especially for those whose exist within a kill-or-be-killed environment. It is refreshing to let one’s guard down under those circumstances.”

 _A warning._ Koumyou took a moment to smoke, contemplating the wispy, wandering path of his exhale. “Daily existence within such an environment does not lend itself to an effortless surrender of one’s defenses,” he said. “Regardless of the restrictions placed on one’s will.”

The response seemed to appease Ukoku. “Just so,” the younger man said, setting down his empty glass. He gazed skyward. “The moon is up,” he said, hopping off the porch and facing Koumyou. “I’ve been told not to miss the sight of Lake Zurich in full moonlight.”

Koumyou swung his legs idly and puffed his pipe. “It is indeed a sight to behold,” he said. He met Ukoku’s eyes for a few long, silent moments, until Ukoku held out a hand and asked --

“Will you join me?”

Koumyou tamped out his pipe and rose from the porch in one slow, smooth motion. He felt the cord of control he held tight within himself grow the slightest bit slack in response to Ukoku’s conciliatory gesture. _Dangerous,_ he thought. The reminder wasn’t enough to keep him from replying warmly --

“It would be my pleasure.”

The stone path to the lake was lined with small globe-shaped lamps, which brightened and dimmed with their footsteps. The path wound gently through the forest for a good distance before emerging to drop sharply toward the open lakeshore. Despite the late hour, Koumyou saw a number of couples strolling along the lake’s edge and several crouched together on benches and blankets, some admiring the way the moonlight danced and twinkled on the water, others engaged in admiration of each other. He paused and glanced at Ukoku.

“Viewing the lake under a full moon is a popular pastime,” he said, keeping his voice low. Ukoku looked amused.

“Why Koumyou, are you ashamed to be seen with me?” he teased.

Koumyou aimed a sly grin at Ukoku. “You know better than most that shame is not something I’m burdened with,” he replied. “I just prefer to avoid the inevitable questions that would arise at the sight of competing house-heads enjoying a moonlit walk on the beach together.”

“Fair point.” Ukoku gestured to his left, where the beach followed the lake’s curve westward and appeared to be deserted. The two kept to the shadows as best they could until they had rounded the curve. The beach transitioned from sand to rocks, and Koumyou’s fabric-soled slippers made it difficult for him to find footing on the slippery stone.

“Having trouble, old friend?” Ukoku asked from above. His feet were bare, and he used his toes to grip the edge of a particularly tall, thin boulder.

Koumyou slid his feet out of the slippers and tossed them over his shoulder. He covered the distance between the two of them in three long strides and sprang up next to Ukoku. The lack of space forced Koumyou to balance on one foot, but he stood straight and strong.

“Does it appear so?” he asked, matching Ukoku’s sweet tone. Ukoku burst out laughing, throwing his head back in a way that arched his slender neck in an appealing arc. Koumyou resisted the urge to run his fingers along the tender skin at the hollow of Ukoku’s ear.

Ukoku lowered his head and flashed that knife’s blade grin at Koumyou. “You have missed me,” he said, eyes narrowed with satisfaction.

Koumyou favored Ukoku with a razor-sharp smile of his own. “We have missed each other,” he said.

Ukoku grabbed Koumyou’s long gray braid and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Koumyou allowed it, tasting scotch and tobacco and traces of blood on Ukoku’s tongue. He was surprised by how quickly his body stirred in response to the kiss. It had been some time since he’d felt any sort of carnal urge, and he had assumed the weight of age and responsibility had pushed physical desire deep into a sort of vault within, locked up there with other unproductive feelings.

Ukoku pressed his thigh to Koumyou’s groin. “Perhaps you are not feeling your age after all,” he murmured, nipping Koumyou’s jaw and tugging at the neck of Koumyou’s dove-gray sleep-robe. Koumyou threaded the fingers of one hand through the hair at Ukoku’s nape and pulled his head up for another deep kiss. He drew his teeth along Ukoku’s bottom lip before pulling away abruptly, leaping from their shared boulder to one further away from the lake, then another closer to the water. He ended his hopscotch game on a low, flat rock extending into the lake. The wind picked up, sending small waves lapping at the rock. Koumyou’s robe blew open below the waist, and the breeze pushed the flowing sleeves up to expose his bare wrists. He wished there was nothing between him and the air, and followed thought with action, swiftly undoing the sash and letting the wind slide the robe from his body. He nudged his braid over his shoulder with his chin, feeling the silken weight of it slide down his back, its end tickling the cleft just above his buttocks.

He scanned the rocks behind him. Ukoku stood where Koumyou had left him, staring at Koumyou as if transfixed. His dark eyes were wide and unshuttered, and Koumyou nearly staggered at the powerful longing they displayed. It took every ounce of his considerable strength of will to mask how drawn he was to Ukoku’s frank expression of need.

“You are the moon.” Ukoku spoke softly, but Koumyou could see his lips forming the words.

“And you are midnight,” he replied, just as softly, enunciating each word with care. Ukoku’s answering smile was as open and unguarded as his eyes. Koumyou thought he had never looked so enticing, had never been more dangerous, than he was in that moment.

Koumyou turned away from Ukoku and placed a toe carefully in the water – it was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Koumyou hoped it would lull his aching erection back into calm complacency. The water was too shallow to dive, so he eased himself from the rock into the water, hissing a bit as the chill set his skin tingling. He walked until he was chest-deep, then dove under. When he surfaced in deeper water, he flipped over to float on his back and heard Ukoku splashing up to him.

“Cruel, Koumyou,” Ukoku panted, treading water within an arm’s length. “You know how much I dislike swimming.”

Koumyou gave him a teasing grin. “It was never your strong suit.” Koumyou flipped onto his stomach and pushed through the water, closing the brief distance until their lips were almost touching.

“Moonlight and midnight meet in water,” Koumyou said, enjoying the feel of the water rippling between their moving bodies. His erection remained unsubdued, he noted with a vague sense of resignation.

“They create a beautiful contrast,” Ukoku responded. He touched his lips slowly to Koumyou’s chin, then his cheeks, then finally his mouth. The uncharacteristic tenderness from a spy Koumyou knew to be a master manipulator raised alarm bells, but they were safe in neutral territory, and his body was keening for sexual release. For once, Koumyou decided to place the needs of his flesh first.

Ukoku drew Koumyou to the shallows, where they coupled for hours, alternating the fierce urgency of newly met lovers with the languor of those long familiar. Koumyou mapped every inch of Ukoku’s skin with lingering caresses of lips and fingers, while Ukoku’s exploration of Koumyou’s body incorporated teeth as well as tongue and touch. Koumyou found Ukoku’s insistence on marking him almost disturbingly erotic, and could not suppress a pleased moan when Ukoku clamped his teeth at the hollow of his throat as he thrust and climaxed against Koumyou’s stomach. Afterward, Koumyou examined the developing bruise as they lay naked on the rocks in the waning moonlight.

“That will show tomorrow,” Ukoku said smugly.

“My mediator’s robes have a high collar,” Koumyou said, unconcerned.

Ukoku leaned in and kissed the bruise hard enough to hurt. Koumyou thrilled at the sweet ache the pressure caused. “That is preferable,” Ukoku said, his dark eyes on Koumyou’s. “It is our business to uncover, then conceal that which has been revealed.”

 _Another warning._ Koumyou would get no further with Ukoku tonight; it was time to raise his defenses once more. He rolled onto his side, then pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the painful, creaking protest of various joints.

“The moon is setting,” Koumyou said, his hand outstretched. Ukoku took it, and Koumyou pulled him to his feet. Ukoku squeezed Koumyou’s hand before releasing it.

“I will come again tomorrow,” Ukoku said with a winking grin. Koumyou rolled his eyes at the obvious double-entendre. He refrained from commenting on Ukoku’s showing his lack of age and instead replied --

“I look forward to further revelations.”

“I will endeavor not to disappoint.” Ukoku finished dressing and bowed to Koumyou, who returned the gesture. Koumyou waited until Ukoku had disappeared around the bend before following. Neutral ground or no, he felt it wisest to face Ukoku’s back.

***

 

The next morning found Koumyou partaking of a leisurely breakfast in the old European style, with pastries and fresh fruit and a pot of bracingly strong coffee. He used the table’s 3D net projection to scan the day’s headlines for the Swiss territory, filing all mentions of limiter technology in his personal dropbox. He would review the information later in private, via the secure portable feed set up in his quarters.

“Either you’re playing some kind of dancing-fingers game, or you’re doing research.” Genjo sank into the chair across from Koumyou and raised one finger at the server-bot scuttling in their direction. It immediately produced an empty cup and saucer and set them onto the table with brisk precision.

“May I interest you in some food, sir?” the bot chirped.

“No thank you.” As the bot scurried to another table, Genjo snatched a currant-speckled scone from Koumyou’s plate.

“Oh by all means, help yourself,” Koumyou said.

“Sorry.” Genjo didn’t sound the least bit. “Skipped dinner. Can you pass the butter?”

Koumyou pushed the dish toward Genjo with an indulgent smile. He was always happy to see Genjo eating, given the young man’s tendency to place work duties before nourishment.

Genjo broke off a corner of the scone and slathered it with butter. “How goes it?” he asked before popping the pastry into his mouth.

“Quite well. The pastries are divine, and the coffee strong.” Koumyou took a dainty bite of pain au chocolat.

Genjo scowled around his mouthful. He swallowed, then grumbled –

“You know that’s not what I… oh hell, you can’t tell me anyway, can you?”

Koumyou donned a confused expression. “I thought I just did,” he said.

Genjo snorted. “Cagey bastard,” he groused. “Can I at least get your advice as mediator?”

“Of course.” Koumyou brushed a few crumbs off his formal yellow robes and refilled Genjo’s cup, which the younger man had emptied in two gulps. Genjo nodded his thanks.

“Hakkai and I have agreed to offer that royal prick a half-million yuan as compensation.” Genjo tore another piece of scone and buttered it, watching Koumyou’s expression.

Koumyou recalled Kougaiji’s tantrum from the previous day. “The son of Chief Gyumaoh is a proud man,” he said. “He may consider such a low sum unworthy of the parley he extended.”

Genjo threw the butter knife against the dish with a clatter. “I’ll be damned if I pay those thieving bastards one fen more for the privilege of retrieving tech they’ve probably already started working to duplicate,” he hissed.

“Now, now,” Koumyou soothed. “Your point is valid, Genjo. But Kougaiji clearly feels the honor of his company and family have been questioned. Given his display of temper yesterday, I suspect he is not inclined to take further insult lightly.” Genjo began to protest, but Koumyou held up a hand. He remained silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully so as not to further rile his prickly ward.

“At this point, rather than solely considering the value of the tech itself, it might be prudent to assess the value of Sun Corporation’s ongoing partnership with Ox and Sons.”

Genjo ground his teeth, his fingers digging into the white linen table covering. He blew out a breath, ruffling the strands of hair that had fallen over one eye. Koumyou resisted the parental urge to smooth Genjo’s hair back.

Genjo stood while taking one last swallow of coffee. He ran the back of his hand across his lips.

“Hakkai said something similar.” His tone was grudging.

Koumyou couldn’t help smiling. “Hakkai is a wise counselor,” he said. “I’m sure you will arrive at a reasonable offer, Kouryuu.”

“I told you not to call me that.” Genjo spun on his heel and stalked away, muttering several derogatory phrases about overly clever old men and pompous company-nobles.

Koumyou laughed softly and called up the 3D display once more. Now that Genjo was falling in line, the negotiations were well on their way to a swift, satisfactory conclusion. Koumyou would have plenty of time to prepare for Ukoku’s next visit.

***

 

As Koumyou predicted, the meeting lasted barely an hour. By its end, Kougaiji and Genjo were exchanging mild pleasantries as their soldiers mingled and teased and showed off various martial moves. Koumyou sought out Hakkai, who was chatting amiably with his lovely counterpart. He bowed to her.

“I do not believe I have had the honor,” he said.

“Yaone, top tactician for Ox and Sons Limited,” she said, bowing low.

“Yaone is the youngest tactician ever to make top at a major corporation,” Hakkai said. “She bested me by two months.”

“Two and a half, actually,” Yaone said with a grin. “Forgive my departure, but I must see to our shuttle arrangements. It was a pleasure meeting you, Koumyou-zi.” She bobbed a bow in Hakkai’s direction. “I enjoyed working with you, Hakkai-jun.”

Hakkai bowed in return. “Safe journey, Yaone-ji.” Koumyou waited until the young woman had exited the room, then clapped Hakkai on the shoulder.

“So familiar!” he said. “Does Genjo know?”

Hakkai gave Koumyou his most benign smile. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” he said.

“Of course you don’t,” Koumyou chortled. “You are entirely too clever, Go-… Hakkai.” Koumyou had almost forgotten how much Hakkai loathed being called by his child-name. Hakkai’s eyes twitched at the corners, but his response was mild.

“I had a most excellent teacher.” Hakkai bowed. “Will you excuse me? I have some errands to run.”

Koumyou nodded and watched as Hakkai touched first Gojyo, then Goku lightly on the back. They followed him out the door. Before making his own exit, Kougaiji paused to kneel and bow in the old-fashioned style, his flame-colored hair spread like a cape across his back and his forehead brushing the floor.

“Forgive my outburst of yesterday, most honored mediator,” Kougaiji said from his prostrate position. “It was most unprofessional.”

To see a proud, honorable man like Kougaiji lay himself so low made Koumyou twitch. Still, he followed protocol, placing one hand on the crown of the noble’s head. “Rise, and be forgiven, most honorable Kougaiji of Ox and Sons Limited,” he intoned. Kougaiji rose to one knee, and Koumyou took his hands and helped him stand straight.

“Thank you for your service,” Kougaiji said. His soldiers bowed to Koumyou as they departed with their prince.

Once they were alone, Genjo loosened several buttons on his green uniform jacket and exhaled in relief. “Why formal attire has to be so constricting is beyond me,” he said.

Koumyou felt the bruise at the base of his throat throb beneath his own tight collar. “To keep us better focused on the task at hand, perhaps,” he said. “I trust you found today’s agreement satisfactory?”

As Genjo opened his cig-case, a chime sounded and a disembodied bot-voice chided:

“There is no smoking allowed in any building within the Swiss boundary resort. This is your one warning. There is no smoking allowed in any building – ”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Genjo flipped closed the case, cutting off the message. “I can’t wait to get back to Chang’an, where I can smoke anywhere I damn well please. To answer your question: no, I didn’t find it satisfactory, but Juang-tianzi will be satisfied, which will have to suffice.”

Koumyou chuckled. “That response was almost poetic.” He straightened a chair that had been knocked askew during Goku’s enthusiastic demonstration of a rolling shoulder throw, and asked in a deliberately casual tone –

“Will you join me for tea before you depart? It has been many months since we visited with each other aside from work.”

“I suppose.” Genjo grimaced as he tugged at the snug cuffs of his jacket. “Let me change out of this ridiculous suit first. I’ll meet you on the patio.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Oh, and Koumyou?”

“Yes, Kouryuu?”

Genjo’s smile reminded Koumyou of the boy he’d been not so long ago. “Bring your pipe. I’ve missed its scent.”

***

 

Despite the difficult task ahead, Koumyou was feeling rather celebratory. He decided to forego his usual subdued colors and wear an orange tunic and sky-blue trousers. He also selected his favorite pipe, made of midnight-blue porcelain with a delicate tracing of gold flowers along its long stem, and packed its bowl with the light, spicy tobacco he used to favor when Kouryuu was a child.

He was waiting on the patio when a service-bot swiftly approached him. “Koumyou, head of Moon House, your presence is required immediately,” the bot recited. “Please follow me.”

Koumyou tucked the pipe into the padded pouch at his waist and followed the bot without a word. It led him through the resort’s main building and bypassed several residential quarters. Koumyou realized the bot was taking him to the security compound, which was secreted behind a series of tall, thick hedges. The bot paused at one of the hedges and emitted a series of electronic beeps and flashes, which caused some sort of machine to lower the hedge into the ground. The procedure was repeated twice more, at different points in each hedge-border, before the glittering black granite walls of the compound were revealed.

Once they approached the compound’s entrance, Koumyou broke into a run. Genjo was kneeling in front of the massive doors, cradling Goku’s bloodied body in his lap. Hakkai was crouched over Goku, using a portable med-unit to mend the soldier’s wounds, of which there seemed to be dozens.

“There’s too much blood loss for field triage,” Hakkai said, his forehead glistening with sweat. “He needs hospital care immediately.”

“On it,” Gojyo said. “Transport should be here in two. Is it enough time?”

“Just. I’ll do what I can until then. Genjo sir, you can let him go.”

Genjo’s eyes remained locked on Goku’s face. The young man’s eyes flickered, and he whispered something, blood bubbling from his lips.

“It’s all right, Goku. We’ll take care of you.” Hakkai adjusted the laser-suture and trained it on a gaping gash across Goku’s chest.

“Gen- …” Goku coughed and spat more blood. “Was… row…”

“Hush, Goku,” Hakkai soothed. “Save your strength.” Hakkai tried to pull Goku off Genjo’s lap, but Genjo held him fast.

“A crow,” Goku croaked triumphantly. “Was… a crow.” His eyelids drooped and his frame went limp. Genjo relaxed his hold, and Hakkai moved Goku to a patch of soft grass, frantically scanning his vitals and shouting commands to Gojyo. Koumyou knelt beside Genjo and took his hand, ice-cold and sticky with Goku’s blood.

“I am here, my son,” he said. “I am at your service. Tell me what you need.”

Genjo continued to stare at Goku, showing no sign of having heard. The hospital-transport descended, sirens wailing. Bots and medical-drones dropped to the ground, and Hakkai helped them transfer Goku to a hover-stretcher. He turned to Genjo and Koumyou.

“Ready for transport, sir?” he shouted above the hissing engines and shrieking sirens. Koumyou turned to Genjo, whose body jerked as if shocked into consciousness.

“Go,” Genjo hollered. “Gojyo, you too.”

Gojyo started to argue, but Genjo glared him into silence. The redhead cursed and stepped into the hover-beam. They were gone within seconds, the sirens fading in the distance. Koumyou had dozens of questions for Genjo and hours of work with Swiss security ahead. But for the moment, he pushed all of his duties aside and squeezed Genjo’s hand.

“What can I do?” Koumyou asked gently.

Genjo threw Koumyou’s hand aside and leapt to his feet. “You have done enough,” he snarled.

Puzzled, Koumyou pushed himself upright. “Your meaning?”

Genjo ripped off his bloodstained purple tunic, revealing a simple black underlayer. “You are the one who called him here,” he raged. “You are responsible.”

Koumyou’s brow furrowed as he ran through possible scenarios in his mind. Clearly Genjo believed Ukoku to be responsible for the attack on Goku. While Koumyou knew Ukoku was more than capable of that level of violence, he would never risk the fatal injury that would result from stabbing someone while wearing a limiter within boundary territory. And Koumyou was all but certain Ukoku had neither the means to override the limiter, nor motive to have attacked a mid-level company soldier.

“Genjo, you are mistaken,” he said.

Genjo ignored Koumyou and snapped his fingers. “Bot, transmit priority message to security comm,” he barked. “Genjo, security chief code M-A-T-E-N-9-3-8-5, requests immediate nullification of limiter under Provision Four-One-point-Two-Zero, and subsequent return of weaponry. Target: Ukoku, head of Crow House.”

He pointed at Koumyou and sneered.

“Let your crow friend know I’m coming for him.”

“Genjo, listen -- ”

“I will kill him.”

“It could not have been -- ”

“I will split him open and gut him like tuna.”

Koumyou had never seen Genjo in such a fury. It was awesome to behold, but it was fast becoming an unacceptable liability. Koumyou raised his voice and boomed.

“Genjo of Sun Corporation, I order you to stand down, as is my right as Mediator under Provision Three-point-Zero-Six.”

Genjo yelped and slumped to his knees as the limiter on his neck sent several volts crackling through his nervous system. Koumyou gestured to the bot. “Standing by to receive orders,” the bot noted.

“Cancel previous message,” Koumyou said. “Code S-E-I-T-E-N-2-0-1-4. Request immediate rendezvous with Swiss Sovereign Security.”

“Acknowledged,” the bot responded. “Transmission completed. Awaiting reply.”

Koumyou nodded and returned his attention to Genjo. The security chief had managed to stand, but his limbs were still trembling from the force of the limiter-shock. “I am truly sorry for that, Kouryuu,” he said.

“You should be.” Genjo was scowling, but his voice was calm and his eyes had regained their focus. He gingerly twisted his neck from side to side. “Limiter activation, really? I had no idea you had that kind of authority.”

“It is not a power I choose to exercise often,” Koumyou said. He reached for Genjo’s cig-case. “Here,” he said, tapping a cig out and placing it at the corner of Genjo’s mouth. “This will help with the twitching.”

Genjo inhaled, tried to grasp hold of the cig, and dropped it. Koumyou caught it in midair and held it while Genjo exhaled with a blissful expression. “Liar,” he rumbled.

Koumyou smirked. “Maybe so. But you do feel better, do you not?”

“Shut up and give me another drag.”

“As you wish,” Koumyou chuckled, raising the cig to Genjo’s lips. The bot chimed twice, and intoned:

“Sovereign Security Commander Kannon in transit. Will arrive in ten.”

Koumyou left the cig with Genjo and brushed his hands along his outer thighs. “Ah, excellent,” he said. “This should move things forward.”

***

 

The interrogation room was small and windowless, though a number of wall-lamps kept it from being truly gloomy. Koumyou sat before a low table of polished ebony, idly running a finger over his waist-pouch. Merely setting his unlit pipe on the table had set off the smoke-warning bot, so he’d been forced to return it to the pocket. The table was strewn with empty dishes and the remnants of afternoon tea, which one of the Swiss officer-drones had promised would be removed before his next guest arrived.

A server-bot wheeled in and quickly cleared the table. Koumyou thanked the bot and requested coffee service. He was pouring himself a cup when Ukoku arrived. The officer escorting Ukoku bowed to Koumyou and left the room. Ukoku turned in a slow circle, shaking his head.

“Rather snug, but in no way cozy,” he lamented, kneeling on the cushion opposite Koumyou. “Your back porch was a much more suitable meeting-place.”

Koumyou held up the coffee-pot, and Ukoku nodded. “Cream and sugar?” Koumyou asked.

Ukoku shook his head. “Black. Like my soul,” he smirked.

Koumyou felt his patience stretch thin and tight, and wished fervently he could light his pipe. He had asked the Swiss security commander for special permission to smoke indoors, but she had deferred to her lieutenant, whose nose had crinkled at the very suggestion. Koumyou touched his pouch again and summoned his mental reserves.

“You are a crow, after all,” he said, stirring cream into his coffee with a small silver spoon. “You have eyes to see in even the darkest of places.”

Ukoku sipped his coffee and contemplated the gold-trimmed china. “There is such a thing as impenetrable darkness,” he mused, running a fingertip along the edge of his saucer. “A black hole, for example. What goes in never emerges, not even light.”

“Ah, but science continues to make strides toward understanding a dead star’s composition,” Koumyou said. “One day we may be able to visualize that which was once impenetrable.”

“And thus gain control over it?” Ukoku set his cup down with a scowl. “Some things are beyond mortal reckoning, Koumyou. Some things should be.”

Koumyou ignored the warning. There was no more time. “I agree,” Koumyou said, setting aside his own cup, and leaning back on his heels. “But once such things are known, and the knowledge spreads too far, it must be contained before it lays waste to all creation.”

Ukoku met Koumyou’s gaze, his eyes burning with challenge. “Creation does not exist without destruction,” he said, lingering on the last word as if it were an endearment. “All things material eventually meet their ruin.”

Koumyou’s blood rushed hot and fast through arteries and veins, its roaring filling his ears. He reached across the table and grabbed Ukoku’s wrist, squeezing it until he could feel bones grinding and cracking beneath Ukoku’s pale skin.

“And you believe this is the end?” Koumyou leaned forward on the balls of his feet, his eyes locked on his rival’s grimace. He felt a tingling at the back of his neck, and released Ukoku before the limiter could activate.

Ukoku cradled his wrist against his chest, hissing painfully through his teeth. He examined the swollen flesh as it began to bruise, and smiled as if Koumyou had given him a gift.

“Not yet,” Ukoku said, flipping the table aside with his uninjured hand. Koumyou met him in the cleared space, crushing their mouths together with enough bruising violence to set off a limiter. The tech remained quiet; no doubt it could sense their intentions were not purely to harm.

“Fuck me,” Ukoku demanded, tearing fabric in his haste to disrobe. Koumyou nearly ripped his own tunic in two as he yanked it over his head.

“The cameras -- ”

Ukoku pulled Koumyou’s pants down. “Deactivated as soon as I entered.”

Koumyou laughed breathlessly. “I should have guessed.”

“You really should have,” Ukoku agreed.

“I have nothing for lubricant,” Koumyou warned.

Ukoku emitted a truly evil chuckle and sank to his knees. After a few mostly silent minutes, Koumyou gasped:

“I suppose that will do. Against that wall.”

“Hurry, Koumyou!” Ukoku’s pleading tone was like music. Koumyou tried to ease his way in, but Ukoku thrust back against him and begged for him to move faster, push harder. Koumyou obliged, his fingers digging into Ukoku’s hips as he reached completion. He then wrapped a hand around Ukoku’s cock and stroked until his rival climaxed with a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob. They stood motionless for several moments, breathing hard. Koumyou pressed his open mouth to Ukoku’s shoulder and bit down just enough to leave the impression of teeth. Ukoku hummed his approval.

Koumyou dug out the cloth napkins from beneath the upended table. They were only lightly soiled, so he used them to clean blood and seminal fluids off Ukoku, then himself. They dressed in silence, then Ukoku returned the table to its rightful place while Koumyou examined the mess of splattered coffee and shards of broken china. “No fixing that,” he sighed. “Are the cameras back on yet?”

“We have another minute or two.” Ukoku lay down, using his seat-cushion as a pillow. Koumyou reclined beside Ukoku and touched his swollen wrist.

“You should get that scanned,” Koumyou said. “I may have broken a bone or two.”

Ukoku smiled. “Well worth it,” he said. “You left your mark on me for a change.”

Koumyou looked at the ceiling. “It will fade,” he said. He felt strangely forlorn at the prospect.

“Not from memory.” Ukoku prodded Koumyou with his foot. “The cameras are booting up. Time to take our places.”

Koumyou tapped Ukoku on the tip of the nose, then swung into his seat on the other side of the table. “Time for you to tell me which of your agents infiltrated the compound,” Koumyou said as the cameras clicked back into action.

“Kamisama. He is no longer a Crow House agent,” Ukoku said. “He departed about a year ago when I refused to grant him full status and clearance.”

“Reason?”

Ukoku smiled slightly. “Mental instability.”

“So you are saying Crow House has no connection with the break-in, or with the attack on the Sun Corporation soldier Goku?”

“None.” Ukoku paused as the server-bot re-entered the room and dispatched the spilled coffee and broken dishes without comment. Ukoku eyed Koumyou meaningfully.

“I came to Switzerland simply to look up an old friend,” he said.

Koumyou nodded. A panel in the wall to their left opened to emit a 3D projection beam, and the image of Commander Kannon shimmered just above the table. She spoke in a firm, deep voice.

“Ukoku, head of Crow House, you are no longer in Swiss custody, and have no further obligation to remain in Swiss territory. However, we would like to request all information you have on your former agent. He has stolen extremely sensitive tech from our R&D section, and it must be retrieved as swiftly as possible.”

Ukoku stood and bowed to the image. “Gladly, Commander. I trust you will have no objection to my billing you for this service?”

“Of course,” Kannon said. “Jiroushin, take care of it, would you?” The image flickered off.

Koumyou scrambled to his feet. “I would like to help, if I may,” he told Ukoku.

Ukoku bowed. “I welcome the assistance, my most honorable rival.”

***

 

Three nights later, Koumyou sat once again on his back deck, smoking his pipe and sipping a cup of rice-wine.

“No scotch this time?”

Koumyou raised an eyebrow at Ukoku. “You drank it all,” he complained.

Ukoku hopped onto the deck and took the empty seat-cushion. “I suppose sake will do,” he said as Koumyou poured the clear liquid into a small earthenware cup. “Though it seems a shame to toast such a resounding success with ordinary wine.”

Once Ukoku’s subordinates had transferred the documents on Kamisama, and he had had the chance to review them with Ukoku, it was a matter of hours before they located Kamisama on an unaffiliated island just outside the borderland. He had been trolling the net’s shadow market for a buyer for the Swiss limiter-canceling tech, and Genjo had been more than willing to play the part of interested client. The capture was swift, if not exactly bloodless, and Kamisama was now stashed in a cell in undisclosed territory, where Koumyou imagined he would spend a very, very long time.

Koumyou drained his cup, and Ukoku poured him another. “Switzerland just wired your fee,” Koumyou said. “If you want better booze, buy it yourself.”

Ukoku laughed. “Spoken like that sour-faced ward of yours,” he said. “Has he gone home yet?”

“This morning,” Koumyou replied. “He was waiting for Goku to be released.”

“Ah yes, his young protégé.” Ukoku gave the term a suggestive inflection. “How is the lad?”

“Fit and fine,” Koumyou marveled. “You would not know he had been at death’s door just days ago.”

“Did Kouryuu ever tell you why Sun Corporation got involved in this matter?” Ukoku took great delight in using Genjo’s child-name whenever possible, one of a long list of reasons Genjo despised him.

Koumyou shrugged. “He never said whether he was under company orders. Only that the tech Kamisama stole would impact us all, including Sun, if set loose on the free market.”

Ukoku shook his head ruefully. “Who knew a dropout like that would manage to crack Swizerland’s legendary, impenetrable security?” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I should have overlooked his psychotic tendencies.”

“It would not be the first time a house has done so.” Koumyou kept his expression neutral.

Ukoku clutched his heart dramatically. “You wound me,” he pouted.

Koumyou chuckled quietly. They finished one wine-flask and started on another. “How is your wrist?” Koumyou asked.

Ukoku held it up and twisted it to and fro. It still bore angry purple marks, but the swelling was gone. “All mended,” he said. “Though I told them to leave the bruising as a keepsake.”

Koumyou sipped his wine in silence. Ukoku tilted his head and studied Koumyou’s face.

“Are you regretting this?” he asked, extending his wrist.

“Oh no! Not at all,” Koumyou said. “I was thinking about the tech, and the reason behind its development. If the foundation for the boundary’s peace and prosperity rests on controlling violence, why invent something that negates that control?”

Ukoku shrugged. “Scientists need no reasons,” he said. “The questions ‘why’ and ‘how’ are enough to drive them.” He drained his cup and held it out for Koumyou to refill. “I would think you would be in favor of such tech, given your views on free will.”

“I favor nothing that infringes on the mind, be it control or lack thereof,” Koumyou said. “Humans should be free to act or not as they choose.”

“Even if their actions lead to destruction?” Ukoku’s face glowed ghostly in the light of the rising moon.

“That is up to society to judge,” Koumyou replied. “The price of free will is vigilance against those who would use it to do harm.”

“You place entirely too much faith in mankind,” Ukoku scoffed. He stretched catlike along the deck, resting on his side. “Not to mention the order of the universe.”

“Spoken like a true nihilist, Ken’yuu.”

Ukoku sat up. “You have not used my child-name in years,” he said with delight.

Koumyou blamed the wine for his lapse; he had already drained one flask while waiting for Ukoku. “Forgive an old man his sentimentality,” he said. “I should say good-night.”

“But it is our last night together!” Ukoku stretched out on his stomach and peered up at Koumyou. “Tell me a secret. Tell me your child-name.”

Koumyou smiled. “I was born before there were such things,” he said, brushing the lip of his cup with his thumb.

“Liar.” Ukoku slid on his stomach toward Koumyou, pushing the empty sake flask aside. “Then tell me why you took responsibility for me after Goudai died.”

“Because he asked me to,” Koumyou replied.

Ukoku frowned. “But he was a rival house-head. You owed him nothing.”

Koumyou lay on his back. “We were trainees together,” he said, gazing at the moon suspended over the trees. “Friends, despite our competing houses.”

Ukoku pushed himself up on his elbows and hovered over Koumyou, blocking his view of the moon. “Did he know your child-name?” Ukoku demanded, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, voice edged with jealous anger.

_Houmei. Promise me._

Koumyou stroked Ukoku’s cheek. “I told you,” he said gently. “We came of age at a time when people carried one name through their whole lives.”

Ukoku kissed Koumyou. “Okay. Enough talk for tonight,” he said, pressing his body against Koumyou’s. While they were undressing, Koumyou heard the last words Goudai had said to him, the night before his death at Ukoku’s hands.

 _Promise me,_ Goudai had said. _That you will be the one to stop him, when the time comes. When he decides to tear the world down._

 _Let that time never come,_ Koumyou prayed silently, as Ukoku kissed his eyes and the world grew dark.


End file.
